


Bets

by Grimmy88



Category: Left 4 Dead 2
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2013-11-26
Packaged: 2018-01-02 17:03:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1059354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grimmy88/pseuds/Grimmy88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ellis wants to top for once but loses the bet they play. Now not only does he have to bottom, he has to wear some unique attire at his lover's whim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bets

            Nick had just barely toppled over the precipice of sleep—that one that dangles you just between the drowning folds of dreaming and the out-of-reach waking called reality. It was an area he was happy to slide into, an area he wouldn’t remember when the alarm clock rang or the sun forced through the tiniest slit of the curtain directly, of course, onto the gambler’s head.

            Neither of the usual culprits were nudging at the ‘rope’ keeping him coherent, however. Instead his redneck lover was murmuring something within the confines of his accent as Nick lay, struggling to clamber back up that metaphorical rope so he was close enough to hear.

            “What?” He was sure it came out as more of a grunt but the fact that it made it out at all was enough for him.

            Ellis’s head shifted against his chest and his fingers pulled the conman’s arms tighter about his thin torso. “I asked why yer never on bottom.”

            Where the hell that question came from Nick couldn’t pinpoint. Had they even had sex tonight?

            Sucking in two deep, sleep-deprived breaths through his nostrils and giving several moments up to the rapid blinking of his eyelids, Nick remembered that no, he hadn’t fucked the hillbilly into the mattress tonight. Because the kid had come home late, showered, eaten, and joined Nick in bed only to promptly fall asleep.

            And now, an hour later according to the glaringly red, numerous eyes of their clock, the food seemed to have given the kid enough energy to ward off the first, heavy onset of exhaustion.

            “I’m older,” he supplied simply, hoping but knowing it wouldn’t be enough.

            “That don’t make no sense,” Ellis said, his lips curved against the skin above the older man’s nipple.

            “I’m bigger and make more money. Make sense now?”

            “No.”

            “Ellis, it’s late. Ask me in the morning.” Nick proceeded to make a dramatic attempt to extract enough guilt out of the hick to just set the topic aside for the nightly hours by throwing his arm, the arm that had been holding his lover’s body, over his eyes.

            But Ellis just drew it back down around himself. “It ain’t that late. ‘Sides I’m the one that’s gotta work tomorrow. How come? You juss hate bein’ on bottom? I ain’t bad; ya came when we did it.”

            “What’s it going to take to shut you up?” Although he could already guess.

            “A good answer,” his bedmate replied quickly.

            Or one that could stun the hick into shutting that goddamn full mouth. “Okay, then… Because the pretty one should always be on bottom.”

            He couldn’t see whether or not the younger face tinted in the dark, but after several moments of silence he decided he didn’t care and closed his eyes. A few moments went by, Ellis’ embarrassed heartbeat calmed, and Nick’s brows curved in exasperation as the accented voice spoke out again:

            “I think yer pretty.”

            Nick laughed, loud and long at the blatant lie, feeling the bounce of Ellis’ weight against his chest at the movement. He sprawled his hand out against the southerner’s back, the pads of his fingers moving in small, admiring circles over his skin.

            “What?” Ellis asked, but the white of his teeth shone even in the dark.

            “Let me put it this way,” the cardshark said, smirk tight, “I think _you_ could get away with wearing a dress.”

            “Yer growin’ up-ta be a creepy, old man, ain’tchya?”

            Nick laughed again, accustomed and unaffected by the jab. “I’m just saying I couldn’t get away with it.” More awake now, he lifted his legs, forcing Ellis’ thigh to slide along his own until his free hand could reach it. He let his fingers dig into the muscle and smooth, practically hairless skin he found there. “Honestly, you’re gonna tell me these legs wouldn’t look good in a skirt?”

            “M’sorry I asked,” Ellis mumbled, face pressed against his lover once again.

            “Done?”         

            “Yeah.”

            Nick waited.

            “Don’t make sense, though,” the hick started up again. “I mean, you look at me an’ get horny an’ I do the same-ta you, right? So who cares who’s prettier? An’ anyway I ain’t pretty. Guys ain’t pretty. An’ stop imaginin’ me wearin’ a dress.”

            “Too late, it’s already stuck up there,” the older man said, purely out of playful spite. He was really imaging the kid with his mouth finally shut and sleeping, instead, but for annoyance sake he had to go with the ruse.

            Besides, in all truth, a dress would look awkward on the kid anyway. And that’s just because of how dresses were made—to accent the curves of a woman’s body. Ellis was all muscled lines and angled hips with the slight protrusion of muscle and, yeah, a damn nice curve to his ass, but nothing else. He was pretty, yeah, pretty as a guy could get. It wasn’t his fault the redneck took it the wrong way.

            Okay, and wait, yeah, he’d meant the leg comment. He gave the thigh another squeeze for good measure. Yep, definitely meant the leg comment. With any dress the kid could get drunk enough to wear though, those legs would probably have a good deal of covering, especially in the decidedly attractive curve of the back of his thighs to his ass. Sure, the rest of the lean legs would be visible, but if he couldn’t get the whole view what good was a dress anyway?

            And skirts for that matter—in fact he could think of only one skirt that would upturn and give him the view he wanted, an outfit fond in every man’s fantasies and one that Nick had actually bought for his past, wilder days. To get Ellis in a maid’s outfit—oh for fuck’s sake, had he really let his thought process get _this_ fucking far?

            And dammit if he didn’t actually remember said outfit was indeed still in his possession, in his closet, under shoes and god knows what else.

            His only consolation was that the hick wasn’t about to get drunk or stupid enough to don it.

            “I dunno, man… I mean, I know I shouldn’t talk ‘cause-a us but trannies aren’t exactly pretty. They’re kinda freaky… I mean, sure I don’t care what they do an’ all but this one time--…”

            Then again the kid _was_ stupid enough to keep talking…

            “The ones you’re thinking about, the ones in shows and shit dress up as a job and stuff, sport. If you’ve ever seen a transsexual in real life I’m sure you didn’t realize it.”

            He met Ellis’ eyes in the darkness while he waited for one of the kid’s usual follow-up questions. Instead, he was pleased to note, the redneck seemed to catch onto the whereabouts of his knowledge and didn’t press the issue with teasing as anyone else would.

            “How come we didn’t meet any-a yer tranny friends in Vegas?”

            “Well, knowing how you feel about them I guess I’m glad you didn’t.” He gave Ellis’ thigh another tracing with the tips of his fingers.

            “I juss don’t get why guys would wanna wear a dress… that can’t be _supportive_ enough.”

            Nick smirked at him. “Your skirt wouldn’t have to be.”

            “I toldjya-ta stop thinkin’ ‘bout it.”

            “I would if you stopped talking.”

            “Okay.”

            One, two, three, fo--…

            “Yer gonna try an’ get me drunk an’ in a dress now,” Ellis accused.

            “I won’t need to get you drunk first,” the gambler responded, tempted by the continuance of the conversation. As hard as it was to imagine, some kind of odd curiosity had been roused within the hick. It just remained to be seen how far that curiosity could stretch.

            “Yeah, right.”

            “I won’t. It’s simple.” Nick shifted, moving upright on the bed, thankful that the other man followed him into the sitting position. “We’ll make a bet and the loser wears the outfit I have in my closet.”

            “… You _are_ becomin’ an old pervert!”

            “I was already a pervert.” Nick rose out of the bed so he could disappear into the closet, returning several moments and loud bangs later with a decently-sized box in his hands.

            “I didn’t say I was gonna bet,” Ellis announced, hands wringing the material of his cap which he had grabbed from the nightstand.

            The older survivor didn’t respond or even acknowledge the statement—Ellis would follow him into the living room. So he set the box on the coffee table and went into the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of vodka and a shot glass that he readily filled with the latter.

            His lover joined him a moment later, hat still in his hands. “I don’t wanna bet. You already have somethin’ planned.”

            Nick glanced at the mechanic’s face and then back to the tiny glass he had just filled. He gave a shrug to both and turned his back to the counter so he could cross his arms and lean his weight. “Then you think of the bet. We don’t have to use the shot glass.”

            His young lover stared at the glass for a moment and then searched Nick’s face. And then he dropped his hat down over the miniature cup. And Nick couldn’t help but think about how easy it was to play the redneck and how relieved he was that he had gotten to him first.

            “Drink from it without movin’ the hat.”

            “No props? How about a straw?”

            “No, y’can’t lift the hat.”

            “Yeah, well, I can poke it through the back.”

            “It can’t be a bendy straw.”

            “Well then it’s gonna be pretty hard to suck the entire glass down,” Nick feigned.

            “So then I win?”

            But Nick had already grabbed a straw from the cupboard and, without ruining the stalk as his lover said, moved it through the small arch of an opening in the back of the cap. And then he sucked through it.

            Ellis watched him intently and the gambler noted the way his eyes shifted to watch the bob of his adam’s apple as he ‘swallowed.’

            “There,” Nick said and pulled the straw away so he could toss it in the trash bin underneath their sink. “Go ahead and put the outfit on.”

            “You didn’t drink it,” Ellis snapped.

            “Sure, I did,” the northerner responded. “So I win the bet and you have to play dress up.”

            “But you didn’t drink it!”

            “Prove me wrong.”

            The hick’s frowned at him, brows coming together to give his forehead a solid, frustrated line in between, as if to keep them separated in their anger. He reached out and lifted the hat, exposing the still-full glass of vodka.

            And Nick picked it up and downed it quickly so that he could put it back down with the tiniest of taps and one of the largest smiles in his arsenal. “Put it on.”

            “But--…”

            “But? I didn’t lift the hat to drink it.”

            “…You cheated!”

            “I don’t know why you even agreed to bet against me,” Nick admitted with a soft laugh.

            “I ain’t puttin’ it on.”

            Okay, well, they both knew his stance on people who didn’t pay up. He searched his lover’s face, regarded the stubborn expression, the childlike defiance in his pursed lips and slit-shortened eyes and then looked to the box.

            “Fine,” the northerner conceded after another moment. “Go sleep in your own bed.” He placed the shot glass into the sink and then tapped off the small light above the stove, leaving the room in darkness save for the neon glow of strewn clocks and the beams of the streetlights playing off their ceiling.

            And then he returned to his room and bed and waited.

            They had been living in their apartment for only a month or so but in all that time Ellis had never stayed in his own room, save when he wanted to play video games or do something else obnoxious that he, thoughtfully, didn’t want to burden his roommate with. But he never slept in that bed. Nor had he ever slept in his own bed before, not when he could curl up against Nick’s side without getting a swift palm to the forehead.

            And Nick didn’t mind sharing his bed with Ellis. Of course because of the sex, but also because the kid was a decent sleeper, light and warm against his side without too much movement. …Well, yeah the movement was there but waking up twice a night to Ellis was better than seven times a night to the complaints and sighs coming out of his wife’s un-make-upped face.

            He watched as light snapped into his room from the front room, granted access to his darkened quarters by the slight opening he had left for his lover. Rustling sound joined the visible a few moments later and then muttered curses after that.

            And Nick wished he knew where the damn camera was.

            The lights clicked off after that and then his door creaked gently as it was pushed open, barely more than a couple inches so that Ellis could poke his head in.

            “…It don’t fit right.”

            “You’ll have to turn on the light so I can see,” Nick tried, adamantly pushing down the amusement and disbelief attempting to burst out of his throat with the words.

            “Nick,” Ellis mumbled, voice unsure. He could hear the skin of the kid’s hands against something much silkier and pliable.

            “Then go lay down.”

            “…Can’t sleep alone, y’know that.”

            “Then come in here.”

            “…I hate you.”

            “Yeah, I’m sure that’s why you put on the dress.” Nick turned on his side, propping himself up on his elbow, not bothering to conceal the grin that had overtaken his face.

            Ellis stepped into the room and even without any light the elder survivor could see the broad expanse of his mostly pale legs. Any other time he would’ve teased his lover about the slight tan that cut off just under his knees where his shorts drifted. He was _almost_ tempted, too, when the hick actually flicked the second light switch to fill the room with the less blaringly-offensive glow of the lamps instead of the over-head light.

            The redneck hadn’t been kidding when he said the outfit didn’t fit, although he wasn’t sure to what, exactly, Ellis had been referring. His shoulders were too big for the outfit, so big he hadn’t bothered with the straps which were hidden somewhere under where his arms were too-tightly pressed to his sides. Of course he had nothing to fill out the jutting area where an ample bosom would’ve been housed.

            Surprisingly, though, his waist did just fine in the outfit, filling out that area almost perfectly, the line of his abs underneath somehow accenting the zig-zag of white material that had been sewn against the black backdrop of the outfit’s stomach.

            Well, it did fine until it descended lower to where the outfit sagged a bit just around the too-slender hips. Too slender to fill out the width of the skirt, especially with how tightly the boy held his legs together.

            And as his eyes drifted lower he couldn’t help but bellow out another loud laugh, the second of the night. “Ellis, you’re not supposed to wear your boxers with it.”

            “Well it ain’t like I got anythin’ else-ta wear! What was I supposedta do?”

            “Take them off?”

            “…Yer already past the perverted stage.”

            Nick gave a nod of his head and a wave of his fingers to beckon his ‘maid’ over, scooting to the edge of the bed and spreading his legs. Ellis stepped between them, looking down but nowhere near the green eyes below him.

            Which was fine, Nick was busy looking down at the almost-too-closely-obscured hips and legs. He reached out and drew the boy closer so that the white appendages were indeed out of his sight. He curled his fingers in the cotton of his lover’s boxers and drew them down. He didn’t need to encourage Ellis who stepped out of them and kicked them aside knowingly.

            Nick traced his hands up the back of the mechanic’s legs, following the lines and panes of muscle until he got to the back of his thighs, just underneath the swell of his ass. He kneaded his fingers into the softer tissue there, letting them dip in between so he could feel the supple warmth of Ellis’ inner thighs. He looked up.

            Ellis was actually staring back this time. He settled his hands upon Nick’s shoulders heavily as his stance was upset by one of the gambler’s harder massages. The massages continued until Nick had forced his lover to lean over against him, a position he took advantage of readily, lathering his lips and then tongue over the skin of his chest just above the top of the outfit.

            When the southerner sighed against him he knew this wasn’t going to last long. Nor should it, considering the kid had to work in the morning. But then again, the shortness wouldn’t matter, not now that he knew how easy it was to get the kid in the outfit, how easy it was to convince the kid he needed to be pleased. Or threatening him, which ever.

            He drew his fingers up, feeling the perfect curve of Ellis’ ass, something he made sure to do every day even if did get him a twack in the head when the kid was attempting to make himself a sandwich. And as always, he gripped the flesh, not hard but tightly, spreading the cheeks apart and then pushing them together.

            And Ellis practically fell over his shoulder, shoving his attentive erection forward from underneath the billowed skirt and against Nick’s chest.  The conman gripped him harder and forced the boy forward so he could continue his own ministrations while leaving Ellis, grinding and grunting, to his own.

            He squeezed the bulbs of skin within his palms one more time before drawing one of his hands out and hurriedly sucking two of his fingers into his mouth. And then he moved them back and pressed them against the pinched but pulsing opening, working slowly until both were buried within the unrelenting heat.

            And he was so grateful for his ambidextrous tendencies, drawing his other equally-dominant hand out so that he could stroke his lover’s cock in time with the probing of his fingers. Ellis hissed once at the friction but didn’t stop bucking between the hands, cushioning himself against the furred chest and then back against eager fingers without any trepidation based on their years and trust and lust.

            Nick gave him a few moments of rocking and then pulled his hands away so that he could stand, pulling the dark-clad body against him, silk and skin and embarrassed hillbilly.

            Embarrassed as he was, however, Ellis easily wound his arms about the thick shoulders before him and turned his head, allowing Nick to seal the forceful kiss he probably sensed coming.

            And Nick thought about how sex was supposed to be boring between two people when they had spent so many years together, how familiar it was supposed to get. And sure, this moment was borderline batshit crazy for the two of them, but still, he enjoyed that Ellis anticipated his kisses and welcomed them and returned them, that he knew when to let his callused hands drift or remain still, that he knew whether to climb on or back off.

            So when Ellis broke off the kiss and turned then, reversing their positions so he was closer to the bed, so that he could bend over it, arms strong and holding himself on its soft surface while presenting the lower half of his body, trembling and ashamed, to his lover Nick had to wonder what the _hell_ had been wrong with all his other relationships where he had gotten bored within months and weeks.

            It took him only a few seconds to draw out their bottle of lubrication, shove down his own boxers, and coat himself with the liquid. It took much less to press inside the welcoming, sucking muscle and hotness of the redneck.

            He let the billowed, white backdrop of the skirt obscure the view of his dick pushing in and out from between the globes of Ellis’ ass but didn’t let it obscure his hand from coiling around the bobbing erection his lover was moaning about.

            And even though he got only a dozen or so thrusts into his lover’s folded form before the kid was keening underneath him and his own stomach was tightening he relented with a deep sigh and a hard push to fully bury himself in the heat, to make sure his seed shot hard and long so that it would get lost within the hick.

            Ellis followed a moment later, tempted by the pulsing grip on his cock. But with that one, final push he let his arms collapse beneath him, his shoulders and the side of his face balancing his weight on the bed as his seed shot out, lost in the sheets.

            Nick was about to lead him down fully onto the bed, his softening dick slipping out in the process, when Ellis stood up suddenly, as if his body hadn’t just been shook by orgasm and robbed of energy.

            “I came on it,” he whispered, not bothering to look over his shoulder. Instead his hands were busy trying to get the outfit off.

            The gambler helped, gently, loosening ties and whatever else he could before pulling it down over the remainder of his lover’s body. It too was kicked aside, much like their boxers had been.

            Only then did Ellis let himself be lead down onto the bed, back first as Nick wanted so that he could look at him, propped up on his elbow.

            “That couldn’ta looked good.”

            “Well next time we’ll have to stuff your bra,” Nick teased. “Maybe some padding for your hips.” He waited, expectant of the retort his joking would surely arouse. Instead Ellis surprised him, rare, but welcome.

            “…No, next time it’ll be my birthday an’ I don’t think yer gonna fit in that dress so you wanna be a nurse?”

            “What?!”

            He watched the hick grin. “Well, we could always make-ya comfortable and make ya a Vegas showgirl.”

            “…Or I could buy you that dog you wanted?” Nick suggested, shying away from the sudden vice-like clamp his lover’s fingers had on his arms.

            


End file.
